by M. D. Bowden
‘Hey,’ I complain, ‘I’m enjoying being hot.’ I always felt cold in the camps, something about being confined seemed to have that effect on me, even in summer.
She comes and sits by my side. ‘Me too, but this is fun. Being away from that place, I feel, I dunno, like I can be more myself. It’s nice not to be watched.’
‘Yeah, I hated having guards there all the time. I always wished I could just leave, even for five minutes. Just go for a stroll, you know?’
‘Umm, it is nice here.’
‘It’s beautiful.’
We are both silent for a while. Gemma points through the trees and we watch as a fox pokes is nose in a rabbit hole. After a while he gives up and sneaks through the ferns, out of sight.
‘We better keep going, see if we can find a town before night time.’
‘How’s your cut?’
I release the pressure and take a look. ‘It seems to have stopped bleeding.’
‘That’s good, I was worried for you.’
‘Don’t be,’ I say, giving her a stern look.
She giggles, helping me get my slightly bloody sock back on. I’ve only got one spare pair, so I need to wear these until they are too stinky to get away with.
‘Let’s fill up the bottle again and be on our way,’ I say.
We walk for four hours straight. After two hours we find a path—which makes our going much easier—and we stick with it until our first sign of a town, until I’m so knackered I can barely see straight. I’m holding Gemma’s hand, guiding her, for she is walking with her eyes shut half the time.
‘Gemma, I can see houses up ahead.’
‘Wh—really?’ she says, and I watch as her eyes spring open and peer through the trees at a scattering of white-painted, slate roofed, detached houses.
‘Yep. Looks like the edge of a town to me. What do ya think, check it out?’
She grins. ‘Yes.’
Chapter 4
HER EYES LIGHT up with possibility, and although I’m exited myself, I sit on a log and pull her to my side.
‘Listen, you’ll stay close, won’t you?’
She nods. ‘Are you worried about something?’
‘Well, it’s a long time since we’ve seen other people—I just don’t know what to expect. I’m sure everything will be fine, but you must let me know if you spot anything that could be dangerous, or if you see anyone else from our camp, especially if you see any vampires.’
She nods again, less enthusiastically this time.
‘Abbi?’
‘Yeah?’
‘When we find our parents, will you still remember me?’
I laugh. ‘Are you serious? You are like a sister to me. Not only will I remember you, I will phone you and visit you all the time. So much so you’ll be sick of me.’
‘Never!’ she says, throwing her arms around me.
I fold her up in my embrace and kiss the top of her head. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘Come on then, let’s see if we can find a phone.’
She takes my hand again and we continue to walk on, along beside a stream. We cross a slightly dilapidated wooden bridge, and after that the path ends at a gate. The other side is a gravel car park, beyond which are actual terraces of houses. Civilisation.
As I unlatch the gate and we step though my heart starts to beat a frantic race in my chest. Gemma tightens her grip on my hand. Both our palms are sweaty.
The car park is empty. Gemma points to a gap between the buildings, but when we go through it the street is empty of people.
‘It’s really quiet,’ Gemma whispers. ‘Where is everyone?’
‘I don’t know.’
She is right though, it’s too quiet. I can’t even hear traffic or radios.
Ignoring the strange tingles on my spine I decide to investigate. I knock on the nearest door.
‘Do you think they’ve gone shopping?’ Gemma asks.
‘Maybe, let’s knock on a few more, someone might let us use their phone.’
Ten doors later and I can’t help but pay attention to my unease, and I can’t help but remember what Mitchel said; how I was the only survivor from my town.
I still haven’t heard anything other than our own voices, steps and knocks. Gemma runs off down the street, knocking on more doors. I hurry after her, just in case. When she stops and turns to face me she has tears in her eyes.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll find a phone soon.’
I twist the handle of the closest door. It’s unlocked. It creaks as it swings inwards, revealing a dark hallway with an afghan rug.
Gemma peers past me. ‘Do you think we should go in?’
I look over my shoulder and listen carefully for any sound of life. ‘I can’t hear anyone, I guess we should take a look?’ I say, half hoping Gemma will refuse.
‘OK.’
We step over the threshold, holding hands.
‘Hello?’ I call. My voice echo’s back to us.
‘I think they’re out,’ Gemma says.
‘I think you’re right. Is it just me, or does it smell weird in here?’
‘It smells mouldy.’
Soft footsteps come from the back of the house, setting my heart racing, and a black cat comes into the hallway.
‘Aww,’ says Gemma. ‘Kitty, kitty, here.’
The cat comes straight up to her and winds around her legs, meowing. She scoops it up in her arms, and gives it a big hug. Gemma starts cooing about feeding it.
‘Did you have pets before we met?’ I ask her.
She shrugs. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘I think he likes you.’
‘Can I keep him?’
‘I don’t think so, this cat looks healthy; his owners might be nearby. Let’s have a quick look about.’
We walk into the kitchen, screwing up our noses.
‘I don’t think anyone lives here,’ says Gemma, pulling her top over her nose.
The kitchen has not been cleaned in a while. Whoever was last here didn’t wash up and mould is growing freely on the dirty dishes.
‘Ew.’
One thought is going over and over in my mind: Please let this be a one off . . . please let this be a one off . . .
‘Why do you think they left?’ Gemma asks.
‘I don’t know. Let’s check out a few other houses, see if anyone is about.’
‘Can I bring kitty?’
‘Sure you can,’ I say, rubbing under his chin. He’s purring loudly. ‘He must be a good hunter to be so healthy, or maybe someone else is feeding him.’
Back out on the silent street we try a few more doors. Most are locked, but those we find open are also deserted. All the phones are dead. The water and electricity are off. Strange. Definitely not a one off.
We go back to the kitty’s house, under Gemma’s persuasion, so kitty will feel ‘at home’, and raid the cupboards. Gemma finds some cat food first, while I open a can of beans and a couple of tins of tuna and plate them up. We sit on the sofa to eat, and when kitty has finished he curls up between us. The living room is cosy and messy, and a tad dusty. There are pictures on the walls of a young family. I wonder what’s happened to them.
Mitchel said I was the only survivor from my town. These people couldn’t possibly be all dead. I shiver, and Gemma shoots me a worried glance. If they are all dead, then, where are the bodies? And what on earth could have caused it? Are we in danger now? And if we can’t find anyone, what will we do?
Chapter 5
AS IF READING my thoughts, Gemma says, ‘We could live here, just us, if, you know, if we can’t find our parents.’
Her round blue eyes look worried, but they don’t hold any tears. Being further from camp, from the vampires, has increased her courage, and that’s something I don’t want to ruin.
‘That’s a good idea, but first I think we should walk into the centre of town, see if we can find a working phone there.’
Gemma and I walk close
together, and I can’t help but look over my shoulder. The cat follows us down the road, and it feels like he’s protecting us. It’s a nice feeling, I’d forgotten how good it feels to have a pet.
As we round a corner we see our first cars, squashed together, all dented metal and broken glass. We hurry forward to peer through the windows, but hurriedly step back. It reeks. I catch a glimpse of a decaying body and pull Gemma back before she can see.
‘Let’s keep going,’ I say. We see a couple more abandoned cars, their windows smashed, and as we get further into the centre, the greater the disarray. Shop windows are smashed, products looted, phones dead. Everywhere is empty. The caw of a crow makes me jump, and a fox slinks into the open ahead of us.
We stand still, silent, at a loss. I don’t know what to say to Gemma, who is hugging the cat tightly to her chest. Suddenly the cat hisses, and I feel icy breath on the back of my neck.
‘Remember that I said I wouldn’t lie to you?’ A gentle caress, burning yet soft and sweet, like smoking treacle.
I turn, not breathing. Gemma freezes at my side.
‘Mitchel,’ I whisper, feeling the blood drain from my face. He is only inches away, his ember eyes fixed on mine. ‘What’s going on?’
‘You tell me?’
‘I had to know for myself. I had to know if you were telling the truth, if there was any hope.’
‘There is hope, but that only exists if you stay with me. If you let me protect you.’
‘Protect us from what?’
‘Come with me.’
He turns his back and walks away, just like that. We could run, I’m not sure if he would stop us, although I know that he could. But I have to follow him. I have to know what’s happened.
I put my arm around Gemma’s shoulders. She is shaking, and holding on tightly to the cat. I guide her after Mitchel. He leads us into another house, busting the lock and forcing the door. The three of us sit around a clear glass table.
Mitchel ignores Gemma, fixing me with the power of his gaze. ‘You shouldn’t have run.’
I refuse to lower my eyes. I won’t do that anymore, I will no longer be a pliant blood slave. ‘Why not? Where is everybody?’
‘Are you sure you want me to tell you?’
‘Yes.’ I am scared, but I have to know.
‘Everyone who was not killed in the initial slaughters has been rounded up and is now kept in warehouses, like cattle.’
‘Kept by who, and for what? And what slaughters?’
‘When vampires came out of hiding and decided to take the world for their own, they killed randomly, and took the rest. They keep people for their blood.’
‘And my parents?’
‘Like I told you before, they were killed.’
‘But why don’t I remember?’
‘I took your memories.’
‘Why?’ My eyes well up and overflow. The belief he was lying has been all that sustained me. They can’t be dead. But, what we’ve seen here, and what Mitchel is saying, along with the fact no-one has tried to rescue us . . .
‘Because you were devastated.’
‘Did you do the same to Gemma, is that why she doesn’t remember?’
‘Yes.’
Gemma shuffles next to me, and I pull her tightly against my side. ‘Are you going to take us back?’ she whispers.
Mitchel’s eyes rest on her for a second, before returning to mine. ‘That is up to you. But before you decide I must ask you this—have I ever taken too much blood from you? Have I left you to starve, or allowed you to be taken by another vampire?
‘No. I have protected you. If you stay out here, eventually you will be captured. You will either be killed or put in a warehouse. You will never see the stars again.’
‘Why do you care?’
‘I respect humans, and I respect you. I want you with me. I want to know you better.’
Could he mean . . . ? I’ve never thought that he might like me. But what if he did? If he’s really not trying to hurt me, if he’s never thought about killing me. . . . It is true that he’s never taken too much blood. I’ve never felt weakened after he’s fed off me. We’ve always had enough food, and even though we work . . . it gives us something to do. We are looking after the humans, the few humans left.
‘How did you find us?’
‘I could smell your blood. I followed you from the stream, to make sure you weren’t in danger. I thought I’d let you see the truth for yourself.’
‘What happened to the camp the night we left? Is everyone all right?’
‘We lost three vampires, but all the human’s survived. None of our attackers did. If we hadn’t fought for you, you would have been taken to one of the warehouses.’
Could he be right? And if he is, what does that mean for us? Before he found us I did not feel safe. I didn’t want to live here, not knowing what might be out there. Not knowing where everyone went. But what about Gemma? I promised her I’d look after her.
‘We will come back with you on one condition,’ I state.
Mitchel’s eyes glisten.
‘Go on.’
‘That Gemma is protected. That she is never fed upon unless she gives her consent.’
‘It’s a deal.’
I stare into his eyes, assessing him, and you know what? I may be an idiot, but I think I believe him. I think he really does want to keep us safe. And if I can protect Gemma from being a blood slave, it’s something I can handle myself. I can do it to keep us safe. Gemma will be my reason for living. My purpose. She will be the meaning in my life, a life that has had meaning since she showed up. I was just too blind to notice. And Mitchel, what do I think of him? Well, we’ll see. I’m going to let myself find out what he’s really like. I’m going to keep my eyes open and my head up. I’m going to make the most out of the life we’ve been given. I’m going to celebrate that we are still alive, and that we have each other.
We’re going to go back.
The End
If you enjoyed ‘Blood Stream’ you might also like ‘Gateway to Faerie’, by M.D. Bowden.
A gateway has opened to the land of Faerie. Can one girl close the portal in time to protect her world from the destructive powers of darkness?
Set two hundred years after the world has been destroyed by a terrifying faerie invasion, Fayth Blackman is busy studying for her final exams. She has no idea that a gateway has opened to the land of Faerie and that dark haunting creatures are filtering through into her own world. But then tragedy strikes and her life turns upside down. She finds out that she is the descendent of a powerful faerie, and that the key to closing the gateway is in her blood. She must embark on a dangerous quest to find the Bell Stone, and with it stop the world from being destroyed once more. But can she make it in time?
Follow Fayth on her quest for the Bell Stone in 'Gateway to Faerie.' Keep on turning for a sample . . .
Gateway to Faerie
Chapter 1: Skries
I felt so alive this morning when I woke up, now I feel awful. My head is pounding and my muscles aching after a hard training session with my father.
He’s at work now and I am left alone to study, but it’s tricky with this stupid headache. I wish it would leave me alone so I could concentrate.
I stare down at my text book, not taking in the words in front of me. It’s a history volume, exam’s next week. I really must focus. I get the general topic, but it’s the details I’m fuzzy on, the bits that matter when it comes to the test.
The ridiculous thing is, this is what I should be good at—my dad has explained it to me enough times. The thing is, I switch off as soon as he starts talking about history.
He is a history professor, well, more of a researcher really, although he does give the occasional lecture. It’s probably that which puts me off, the serious tone he adopts as soon as he starts talking about his favourite subject, the faraway look in his eye.
He says that this stuff I’m learning is a load of crap anyway, that the
real reason the planet is now so empty, so lacking in crowds and communities, is far darker.
Far scarier.
It’s not in the history books because if people knew the truth they wouldn’t be able to go about their day to day lives, they would just be too freaked out, and what is left of society would crumble.
That stuff is easier to remember, because it’s real. Learning history that I know is fake does not come naturally to me.
I shift my bum, trying to get more comfortable on the granite rock I’m perched on, and stretch my back, before refocusing on the book on my lap.
The book is made of bleached white paper which is still crisp and smells fresh. It’s one of the newest ones I own.
My father says it’s important that I learn this stuff so I can get a decent job, like him, and that I never tell anybody what he’s told me.
I don’t know what would happen if I did.
What I do know though, is that if I don’t pass my exams, if I can’t get a job, the government won’t help me. I will have to look after myself.
That’s why I’m out here sitting on this uncomfortable stone. I am hoping some kind of animal will approach the bait; freshly cut carrot I grew in our garden. I’ve laid it out in a secluded corner that’s protected by rocks and ferns, and in my direct line of sight.
I’m hoping to catch a rabbit, as they’re my favourite. Then I can kill it and we will have meat for dinner.
My dad has taught me well, and I hunt frequently, so at least if I don’t get a job I will be able to survive, I will be able to eat, and stand up for myself in a fight.
Unfortunately nothing is approaching the bait yet, so I return my attention to my book, rubbing my temples as I do.
I force myself to read the words on the open page . . .
~
‘In the year 2046 the government of England refused to play a part in the war that was rapidly consuming the European nations, having spread from the Middle East. The leading party, Labour, thought that if it abstained from action it would not be a target.